A cross of ashes
grits across my oily forehead
under the calloused thumb of a fellow sinner
One day each year
we exchange masks for marks
and find grace
a
a
A cross of ashes
grits across my oily forehead
under the calloused thumb of a fellow sinner
One day each year
we exchange masks for marks
and find grace
a
a
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from another sinner saved by grace. . . lift high the cross of Christ
Amen, Ann.